


I don't love you anymore

by philaetos



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Baz's POV, M/M, Post-Break Up, agatha is having fun, all the characters are older than they are in canon, and baz draws (mostly simon because he's In LoveTM), and he isn't here much anyway, anyway, as they should - Freeform, baz and simon's relationship really wasn't great, baz has one of his baz moments with fire, baz is sad, because time passed you know, honestly i really just wanted to be able to write teenager mordelia, i promise he isn't as bad as in the books, oh also agatha and baz are friends, penny and shepard are thriving, simon broke up years ago, sorry - Freeform, yes lamb's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philaetos/pseuds/philaetos
Summary: Baz and Simon broke up three years agoThey have to meet again for Penny's wedding
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 13
Kudos: 62





	I don't love you anymore

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't proofread this, sorry
> 
> Pretend Baz, Simon and Penny went to America like in Wayward Son but they didn’t meet Lamb there
> 
> !! The parts in italic are flashbacks !!

**Baz**

I knew I’d see Simon Snow again, eventually. Fate isn’t kind enough to me to make us part ways for good, no it has to keep torturing me by making me see the ordinary blue eyes and messy bronze curls that already haunt my nightmares and daydreams. 

It was inevitable, really. I’ve tried avoiding him before ; for many years at Watford I hid from him in the Catacombs and it was never enough, he always found me. So of course he’d find a way back into my life, even after I fled to the other side of the bloody Atlantic -Wellbelove may have inspired that particular decision ; save from the Las Vegas incident, she seems to be safe from tawny-skinned, freckled demons where she is. Except for me it didn’t work. 

So as I said, I knew I’d see Simon Snow again, eventually. I just didn’t think it’d be so  _ soon _ . It’s only been three years, three years of lighters running out of gas after burning for too long, of melancholic violin playing with only the stars for company, of empty vodka bottles on my living room floor, of sketches of a face that’s less and less clear in my memory, despite being the only thing I can think about, of sleepless nights thinking about the one person who made all of the bad things seem worth it, and who then became the worst of the bad things.

It’s been three years of this, of heartache, of missing, of trying to forget while being overwhelmed by memories, and now I’m seeing the subject of all my torments again, courtesy of Penelope Bunce. 

It’s true, I could have turned her down. She  _ invited  _ me, she didn’t force me in a plane back home herself, but as much as I hate to admit it, I care for Bunce. I don’t want to miss her wedding, especially not for him. He’s ruined enough things for me, I won’t let him keep me from being by Bunce’s side on her big day. She  _ deserves  _ her big day, after everything. The American -it pisses him off when I call him that, even more so now that I’m the one living in the States and he’s the one living in good old England- is a good lad. He’s charming, and he treats her well. Respects her. Actually listens to her when she goes on rants about things he doesn’t know the first thing about. Make sure she eats and gets sleep, because she’s so busy taking care of everything else that she neglects herself. He  _ loves  _ her.

Good for her.

Simon Snow’s words, the last words he ever said to me, ring in my head. I try to make it stop, to shut that stupid voice, but it won’t listen. It never fucking listens.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

**xxxxx**

_ When I come back home -I don’t officially live here but almost all my clothes have found their way in Snow’s wardrobe and I rarely ever sleep at Fiona’s anymore-, he isn’t on the sofa watching some Netflix show as I expected. He is indeed on the sofa, but it’s not a Netflix show he’s busy with. It’s a book. No, not a book. My sketchbook. My bloody fucking sketchbook. _

_ I have never been so ashamed. _

_ “Snow what the fuck are you doing with that.” _

_ It startles him. He turns at me, his cheeks bright red and a sheepish look on his face.  _

_ “I… erm… I found it. I was looking for one of your old jumpers and I found that instead. _

_ “So you thought the decent thing to do was look through it even though I never gave permission to look at my art?” I ask, my voice sounding too much like it did when we used to argue, back at Watford. _

_ “Look, I didn’t think you’d make a big deal out of it, okay?” _

_ “A big deal! I hide it in my wardrobe for a reason! It’s fucking private, Snow!” _

_ This sketchbook is like my diary. I’ve had it since I was 13, making new pages appear when I needed them. Through my drawings, and even some poetry, when I was feeling like writing instead of drawing, it shows my deepest thoughts. My biggest desires and regrets.  _

_ And Snow just looked at it. Without fucking asking me.  _

_ Crowley there are recent pieces in this. Stuff I’ve made when I was feeling down about mine and Snow’s relationship. He should have never seen that.  _

_ It’s the greatest invasion of my privacy. Standing in front of him as he holds my sketchbook in his hands feels like standing there naked. No, not even naked, it’s worse than that, so much worse.  _

_ I gave him my heart.  _

_ I gave him the key to it, to show him most of what was inside, everything except for the ugly parts I absolutely didn’t want him to see. _

_ And yet he still went and tried to dissect it more. _

_ He left it there, bleeding out feelings and secrets. _

Maybe it’s why it all went down. 

He saw too much of me, and who I really am scared him away.

**xxxxx**

It’s strange to set foot on British soil. I only ever come back once a year, for Christmas, which makes a place that used to be familiar seem foreign. 

Fiona is here to pick me up, sitting on the hood of her car as she waits for me. It’s good to see her. She never changes. She’s always Fiona, with her white streak in her hair, her leather jacket and doc martens, her smirks and her accent she desperately tries -and fails- to make sound less posh. “Basil! My favourite nephew, it’s good to have you back in the country.”

“I’m your only nephew, Fiona.”

“So? You’re still my favourite. Come on boyo, get in. Mini-Daphne demands I drive you to Hampshire before I leave you in the hands of the little Bunce.”

I can’t help the smile that blossoms on my lips at the mention of my sister.

Mordelia and I are close, closer than I am with any of my other siblings, despite our age difference. She’s always sort of admired me, even if she’d never admit it, and I always adored this little girl, who’s grown into a fine young woman. She’s only seventeen, but I can tell she’s going places. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my beloved little sister, Mordelia really is brilliant. She’s top of her class at Watford, and she certainly has a better grasp of politics than I ever have or ever will. She wants to become the youngest person to ever be at the Head of the Coven. She plans to start by being Headmistress at Watford, since this is how it always happens ; first, you get power over the youth, then, over the rest of the population. She wants to do what my mother did, and more. She wants to be  _ better  _ than my mother was _.  _ I truly believe she can, even without a drop of Pitch blood in her. She may not have our name, but she has our fire -metaphorically, Mordelia isn’t a fire-holder.

The world should be grateful she isn’t.

She’d be unstoppable, if she had the exact same DNA as I do.

“Mordy wants to see me?”

It shouldn’t surprise me, but it always does.

I barely see her anymore -even though I do chat with her often-, the fact that she hasn’t forgotten me yet is beyond me. I’m just her boring, depressed big brother who’s left her and everyone else to hide in America like a coward after a nasty breakup. I’m not worthy of her love. 

I’m not worthy of  _ anyone’s  _ love.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

**xxxxx**

_ I’m in the middle of my finals week. I’ve been revising nonstop whenever I wasn’t taking my tests, I have even resorted to wearing my glasses in an attempt not to get too much of a headache. The paracetamol I just swallowed is laughing at me.  _

_ But Snow doesn’t seem to interpret that as signs that he should leave me alone, so he’s currently sitting across the table, pouting. Literally pouting, bottom lip, frown and all. And he sighs approximately every twenty seconds. He’s a nightmare, and I don’t mean it tenderly this time. _

_ He lets out a particularly loud sigh and I snap. “What do you want, Snow?” _

_ “For you to pay attention to me. You constantly have your nose buried in schoolwork lately.” _

_ “That’s because unlike some people, I go to school instead of doing nothing all day.” _

_ I don’t mean to say that. I really don’t. I know why Simon isn’t going to school, or to work, for that matter. I know it’s hard. I know I shouldn’t use it against him. I know it’s not his fault he’s depressed. But Crowley, I just need some bloody peace. _

_ The hurt look on his face makes me want to go back in time and never say those words. “Fuck off! I just want to spend some fucking time with my so-called boyfriend.” _

_ “So-called?” _

_ “Well, it’s not like you’ve been acting much like my boyfriend lately, have you?” _

_ “Crowley Snow, it’s finals week! Do you want me to fail my year?” _

_ “I want you to remember I exist!” _

Maybe it’s why it all went down.

I didn’t pay attention to him enough, I made him feel neglected, like he was a second choice when he should have always, always,  _ always  _ come first.

**xxxxx**

“Welcome back home, motherfucker.” 

“Mordelia!” I hear Daphne scold from the living room.

It’s enough to put a smile on my face. Crowley I’ve missed them. All of them. 

Mordelia giggles at her mother’s reprimand as she puts her arms around me. She’s taller than the last time I saw her, the top of her head reaching my nose, but it’s only because of the shoes she’s wearing. She finally convinced father to let her buy heels a couple of weeks ago, and she’s told me she’s been wearing them all the time since then. She says it’s crucial for her plan to make it into politics. “Have you ever seen a female politician who can’t walk in heels? No you haven’t. I can’t make a fool out of myself.”

“I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” I answer, ignoring Fiona rolling her eyes as she walks by us -probably to go help herself with some alcohol from Father’s office. “What have you been up to recently? Still working on taking over the world?”

Mordelia untangles herself from me, standing only a foot away, with a hand on her hip. Fiona’s right, she is a Mini Daphne. She looks so much like her mother, I’m not sure anyone who would see us together would assume we’re siblings.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she smiled. “I’ll tell you all about my plans of world domination after lunch, okay? Mum is going to kill me if I keep you to myself.”

“Oh, so I’m invited for lunch?”

“Of course you are, idiot. It’s half-past twelve, you’re just in time. Well, Ophelia would say you’re late because she’s been complaining about how she is  _ starving  _ for a solid hour.”

“I can hear you!” Ophelia shouts.

“That’s why I said it!” Mordelia shouts back. Then, to me. “Come on, don’t make her wait any longer.”

She winks, and she’s made of trouble.

**…**

Lunch is chaos. 

My sisters ask me a million questions, as if I didn’t see them only a few months ago and I have to promise Acantha I’ll show her some of my sketches for her to leave me alone -who knew those girls would be harder to handle as teenagers as they were as toddlers? Fiona teases me about the American words that made their way in my vocabulary. Father asks about work, and I don’t have it in me to tell him I’m still unemployed so I make up something about helping a friend manage his business. It’s not  _ a complete  _ lie. Lamb is more a lover than a friend, but I do give him business advices, sometimes, in between fancy dinners and rough sex. 

Lamb. That’s one part of my life in the States I really don’t want my family to know about. Fiona and Mordelia do because they’re nosy with no concept of private life, but it’s better if my parents and youngest sisters stay unaware of my relationship with him. Firstly because my father still isn’t completely comfortable with me being gay. He had eventually accepted Simon because it wasn’t just some sex thing, it was love, it was pure. With Lamb… well, ‘just some sex thing’ is exactly what it is. I met him my first week in California, when I went down from where I was staying at Wellbelove’s flat -long story- to Las Vegas. He took me for drinks, we kissed. He told me he’d like to see me again if I came by Vegas again, some time and gave me a number. Two weeks later, I called him and we hooked up. We’ve been doing that ever since, seeing each other sometimes, for a couple hours, then saying goodbye and waiting for the next time one of us would want an easy fuck. 

It’s rather pathetic, I know.

Which is exactly why my family can’t know about it. 

But as I said, Mordelia knows, so once we’re in her room, she asks me. “That  _ friend  _ you talked to Dad about, it’s the bloke you were shagging, right?”

It’s lucky I’m a vampire, my whole face would be red otherwise. “Yes.”

“So you’re still seeing him?” She sounds like she doesn’t approve. 

“Yes. Why exactly are we talking about my sex life right now?”

“I just don’t think it’s healthy. You’re too much of a romantic for casual sex.”

“Well, casual sex has worked so far, while romance hasn’t,” I answer bitterly. 

The worst thing is that she’s right. Having sex with Lamb is great when I’m doing it, but as soon as my brain is no longer fuzzy with lust, I feel like shit. And yet I keep going back, again and again and again, for a little bit of warmth and the feeling that maybe, there was a little chance someone could want me.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

**xxxxx**

_ Did you know a person could make you ridiculously happy, simply by existing? _

_ I didn’t, until I lay there, naked, on ugly, uncomfortable bed sheets with stains both from food and other things on them, and Simon Snow sleeping curled up next to me. _

_ He just made love to me. _

_ I can’t quite believe it, to be honest.  _

_ I had sex with Simon Snow. _

_ Fifteen years old Baz is having a stroke right now.  _

_ Twenty two years old Baz is too.  _

_ I didn’t think it’d ever happen. Snow and I have been in a relationship for four years now, and sex was still off limits. I believed we’d never get there. But like everything with Simon Snow, it happened on an impulse. I was coming back from class,and he grabbed me by the collar the moment I walked through the door. He kissed me like his life depended on it, and then dragged me to the bedroom and fucked me. _

_ It was messy, and not how I imagined our first time would go -in my fantasies, I was facing him, so that I could look at his beautiful face as he took his pleasure in me, but in real life, he wanted me on my stomach, my face pressed down on the pillows. I didn’t mind much. He wanted to fuck me, and that was enough. I didn’t care much how he did it. _

Maybe it’s why it all went down.

I didn’t care. I didn’t pay attention to the signs.

**xxxxx**

I hate the sadness I see on Mordelia’s face. I don’t want her to pity me, I do that enough myself. So like the coward I am, I change the topic. “Let’s not talk about it. I’d rather hear your plans of world domination.”

So that’s what I do. For the next hour or so, I listen to Mordelia rant about magic and politics, until Fiona walks in -without knocking, because it’s Fiona- and giving me  _ -throwing  _ me, because it’s Fiona- the suit I bought for Bunce’s wedding. It’s dark green, almost black, a colour that suits my complexion well and that just happens to be almost the same colour as the suit I wore on Christmas, all this time ago, the year Simon Snow kissed me on a burning forest. I do not dwell on that. This is purely accidental. “Get dressed. And maybe put some makeup on. You look dead.”

“I am dead.”

Fiona does not appreciate that comment. She glares at me. “Get your arse in my car in fifteen or I’m leaving without you,” she tells me on her way out. 

“She’s a delight,” I whisper to Mordelia, elbowing her in the side.

“You know how she feels about the vampire jokes. Come on, go get ready, she  _ would  _ leave without you.” 

**...**

Mordelia walks me to Fiona’s car, and I can tell she’s got something on her mind. Fortunately, I don’t need to ask her what. “If there’s any problem because of… you know, you can call me.”

I hate that. 

I hate absolutely fucking everything about that. 

My little sister shouldn’t have to worry about me like that. It’s not her role, I’m the big brother, I should be the one trying to protect her from heartbreak, not the other way around. But I suppose that after everything she had to witness when Snow left me… It makes sense she wouldn’t want me feeling that low again.

And guess what? I fucking hate that she had to witness that too.

At the time I didn’t care. Back then, I was too overwhelmed by pain to care about anything that wasn’t my last moments with Simon Snow. But now I’m better and all that’s left is the burning shame of my family seeing me lost in a kind of sorrow that only someone you love so very deeply can cause you.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

**xxxxx**

_ “Fi… Fiona?” I say, my voice quivering.  _

_ “Basil? What’s wrong?” Even through the phone, I can hear her worry.  _

_ “I… Can I sleep at yours, tonight?” _

_ “Of course you can, you’re always welcome here, but why?” _

_ “Simon and I had a fight.” _

_ “A big one?” _

_ “No. I don’t think so. I don’t want to talk about it. I… Thanks Aunt Fi. I’ll be here in thirty.” _

_ “Don’t be silly, I’m picking you up, you’re not crossing the city right now. Wait for me in front of your building ok boyo? I’m coming for you.” _

Maybe it’s why it all went down.

I ran to my family instead of fighting for him, I fled instead of trying harder.

**xxxxx**

When I arrive at the manor where Bunce’s wedding is taking place, I notice that I’m one of the last to get here. Good. I can sit at the back, and hide from a certain someone. 

So that’s exactly what I try to do, but Bunce has very little family and Shepard only invited his mother, which doesn’t leave me much room to hide and…

Merlin and Morgana, save me.

He’s here, and he’s more handsome than ever. Or maybe it’s my memory playing tricks and making me think he’s never been this handsome. I don’t know. All I know is that he takes my breath away.

It’s pathetic.

He’s wearing a black suit that hugs his thigh and biceps in a way that shouldn’t be allowed, with a light blue flower on the front pocket of his jacket, the same color as the dresses Penny’s sisters are wearing. It’s overall a pretty simple outfit he’s wearing, exactly what you’d expect of Snow, but it still drives me mad. 

Also, his hair has grown. It longs enough to fall in beautiful waves around his face, down to his chin. It’s spectacular.

He has absolutely no right to look this good. It’s not fucking  _ fair. _

“Basil.” Wellbelove’s voice startles me. I hadn’t seen her coming. She’s wearing an elegant purple dress, cut low on the back, showing her sun-kissed skin and the delicate line of her spine. I can’t help but notice that together, we’re wearing the colours of Watford. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“It’s Bunce’s wedding,” I say as if it answers anything. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. Will you handle being near Simon?”

“If you can do it, so can I.”

She rolls her eyes, putting her hand on my forearm. “I never loved him, not like that. You did. You  _ do _ . It’s not the same.”

“I’ll be fine, Wellbelove,” I tell her dryly, pushing her hand away.

A small smile grows on her face. “Very well. Lucy misses you,” she teases me.

During the three months I spent at Wellbelove’s, her little dog took a liking to me, which roughly means that she trashed her tail around when I was in the same room as her, yipping at me happily. It was insufferable. I wanted peace and I had this minuscule demon demanding my constant attention. Besides, I remembered that Bunce had possessed the little thing every time I saw it, which never failed to make me shiver. 

“I should have drained that bloody creature of yours when I had the occasion.”

It makes her laugh. Actually laugh. It was something I didn’t think Wellbelove was capable of, until I lived with her. She actually laughs plenty. Maybe it’s because she’s happier now than she was during our teenage years.

I wish I could say the same. 

“Oh hush, I’m sure you loved Lucy.”

“I did not. Now you hush, the ceremony is going to begin.”

She rolls her eyes again, and rests her hand on my knee, squeezing it gently.

**…**

Bunce looks wonderful.

She’s a girl I never thought to be particularly pretty, without being ugly either, but today she’s one of the most stunning people I’ve ever seen. Maybe white looks good on her, or maybe it’s happiness that looks good on her. Either way, she’s beautiful, and the American seems to think so too because his eyes go wide when he sees her walk in on her father’s arm.

Her hair is black, her natural colour, I presume, and the fact that it’s not dyed a crazy colour makes my heart clench in my chest.

We’ve grown up, haven’t we?

Bunce stops in front of Shepard, who, it seems, is already crying, and next to  _ Snow _ . 

I want to pay attention to the ceremony, but I can’t. All I can focus on is him, the pure joy he radiates watching his best friend getting married, the rest is just a blur of words I barely understand and cheers I try to participate in. 

Then it’s over and Bunce is walking towards me, her now husband following her, with tears on his cheeks but the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. Even Bunce is grinning. Shepard stops to talk to one of Penny’s sisters, but she doesn’t stop walking until she’s standing in front of me. 

“Penelope,” I greet her with a smile -she deserves one of my smiles, it’s  _ her  _ day. “How does it feel to be married?”

“Wonderful! I’m glad you could make it,” she says as she pulls me into a tight hug.

It surprises me. She was never the kind to give hugs. But it’s nice. I relax in her embrace, until she lets go. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Don’t go soft on me, Pitch, you'll make me cry.”

“Oh, how terrible would it be for a bride to cry on her wedding day. You’re right Bunce, you absolutely cannot have that.”

“Aleister Crowley, you’re such an arsehole. I missed you.”

“Those two pieces of information seem rather contradictory to me.”

“Forget what I say, I didn’t miss you.”

I snort. “It’s good to see you too. It’s been too long.”

“And who’s fault is that? You could have visited me, Basil. Or you know, called me, at least. I was worried sick for months until I happened to see your sister and she told me you were well, but had left the country.”

“You saw my sister? Which one? How?”

“The older one, Mordelia. I help my Mum at Watford sometimes, that’s how I ran into her. Thank Merlin she let me question her, but I think I freaked her out a little bit.”

Mordy didn’t tell me that. Little traitor. 

“I shouldn’t have cut you off like I did, but I was being unreasonable. I apologize.”

“Wow, Baz Pitch apologizing to me. This really is an extraordinary day.”

I give her a glare Watford-me would have been proud of. “Don’t you have other guests to entertain? Or a husband to go to?”

Her whole face lightens up at the word “husband”.

“You’re right. I have other, more likeable people to talk to. See you later, Basilton. Oh, and there’s blood in a freezer for you! I would like my wedding not to end dramatically with one of the guests being turned into a vampire.”

She winks. Bloody  _ winks _ . Maybe we haven’t grown up that much, after all. 

It’s only seconds after Bunce leaves me that I see him again, and this time, he sees me too. Our eyes meet ; those beautiful blue eyes that have been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember staring directly into mine, and my heart misses a beat.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

**xxxxx**

_ We’ve been arguing again for some stupid reason. He didn’t do the dishes, the light I need in the room keeps him from falling asleep, I spend too many of my free time studying at the school’s library instead of at home. I don’t even now. All our fights start with a silly reason and it escalates until we’re screaming in each other’s faces, throwing insults and words we know will hurt. It’s exactly like being back at Watford, except we don’t hit each other anymore. That’s a line we wouldn’t cross.  _

_ Until now, I suppose. _

_ I feel the burning mark of his hand on my cheek.  _

_ His beautiful blue eyes are full of rage in a way I haven’t seen then in a while. Mine are full of tears, but I don’t know if they’re simply a physical reaction from the pain in my cheek or if it’s the situation that caused them. _

_ One of them rolls down my cheek, the one he hit.  _

_ I see his whole expression change, from anger to horror -at his actions, probably.  _

_ “Baz… Baz I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry, I…” _

_ “Go fuck yourself.” _

Maybe that’s when it should all have gone down.

But it wasn’t, because I would have accepted anything, as long as I still got to come home to him.

**xxxxx**

I thought he was going to ignore me. I wanted him to ignore me. (No I didn’t. All I’ve ever wanted was his attention.). But he’s Simon fucking Snow and he never does what you think he will, so now he’s standing in front of me, in all his golden glory.

Being this close to him hurts, like getting too close to a flame.

“Baz,” he says, and I almost swoon. All he needed was to say my name for me to have the urge to get on my knees and beg him to take me back. I’m so fucking pathetic.

“Snow.” I try to sound cold but I’m so ridiculously emotional, of course I can’t even achieve that. “I would prefer it if you could abstain from talking to me. You’ve made it abundantly clear you didn’t want to have anything to do with me, you don’t need to force yourself to be civil for Bunce’s sake.”

“I’m not… Baz I’m not talking to you because Penny wants me to. And I never said I didn’t want anything to do with you.”

“You  _ broke up  _ with me.” The words hurt just as much as they did the first time I said them. 

He opens his mouth to say something but I shush him. “Snow. No. I don’t want to talk to you. Please just… leave me alone.”

Against all hope, he does. He doesn’t even argue. He simply looks disappointed and walks away.

Good.

No.

Not good.

Absolutely terrible.

Because as much as I want to despise him, my heart still aches for him. 

It always will.

But his doesn’t.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

**xxxxx**

The last time Snow talked to me.

That’s when it all went down.

_ We’re fighting. Again. I feel like we do nothing except fighting these days. That, and fucking. Angry sex that doesn’t solve anything. If anything, it makes things worse, because for a moment, I can close my eyes and pretend we’re a normal couple having sex, pretend he’s looking at me with love and tenderness in his eyes, not just lust. _

_ “This isn’t working Baz, and you know it!” _

_ Yes I do. _

_ I’ve known for a while. I just chose to ignore it. I learnt that from you, love. Not thinking about something when it hurts. _

_ “We’re both clinging to this relationship,” he continues. He’s full of fire. “You, because you love me. Me, because I don’t want to be alone. But it’s not fucking working. Look at us, we’re always fighting for the smallest things, it’s ridiculous. We should just end it all.” _

_ That’s it, he’s said it. The words I’ve been fearing for so long. “End it all.” _

_ I don’t want to end it all, love. I want to fight all day, and crawl in our bed at night, pretending nothing happened. I want you to bend me over because it’s the best thing you can do to take your anger out on me without hitting me again. I want your rage and every bad word. I want the screams and the tears. _

_ I want it all if it means you’re still mine. _

_ You’ve always hurt me, Simon. I can handle the pain of being with you. I crave it.  _

_ “No.” I say under my breath. It’s all I can say. There’s no logical reason I can give him to keep me. _

_ “It’s the best thing to do,” he says, running his hand through his hair. Crowley, how much I want it to be my hand touching his curls. Will I ever be able to again? “We can’t go on like that. I don’t  _ want  _ to go on like that. I don’t love you anymore, Baz.” _

**xxxxx**

I manage to avoid Snow for a solid half hour while Penelope chats with her guests, showing off her ring -which she hasn’t shown me. Rude. However, we eventually have to go sit around the tables, and since fate -Penelope Bunce- hates me, I end up at a table with Snow and Wellbelove. I really don’t want to, but it’s Bunce’s day, so I won’t cause a scene. I will definitely need to have a conversation with her about that later, though. 

For now, all I can do is glare at her as I take my seat. The only answer I get is a smirk.

I hate this woman. I should have never come to her wedding. 

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Wellbelove says, looking back and forth between Snow and I, a smile on her lips that she hides by taking a sip of champagne. 

She gets a glare too. It only makes her smile wider.

“Shut up Wellbelove, don’t ruin their first dance with your annoying chatter.”

“Oh Basil, you’re always so nice to me.”

“Hush.”

Thank Merlin, Wellbelove shuts up, and I can properly look at Bunce and her American, slow dancing in the middle of the room. He’s a head taller than her, even with her high heels on, and he’s clumsy so it’s a rather messy dance, but they’re laughing softly together and there’s so much joy and love radiating from them, it’s still a beautiful thing. 

“They’re so cute together,” Wellbelove sighs.

“They are,” I say, turning at her. “It’s disgusting.”

“Rubbing their happiness in everyone’s face like that.”

“Happy straight people make me want to vomit.”

“Happy people in general make me want to vomit. Who has the energy to always be cheerful honestly? It must be exhausting,” she says, propping her chin on her hand. 

I smile at her. It feels good to be talking with her again. 

In the few weeks I spent at her place, Wellbelove and I discovered that when we’re not both playing roles, we can genuinely enjoy each other’s company. I was really not sure what would come out of me living at her place but it was a good experience. And it helped, having someone who didn’t pity me -didn’t pity me  _ too much _ ; Agatha does happen to have a heart and some compassion, unfortunately.

We keep chatting, which would be a good way to stop thinking about Snow’s existence if my brain wasn’t screaming at me that he’s  _ right there _ , until the moment after Penelope and her husband have take their seats at their table when Shepard stands up and says “I wanted to wait until later when we’re all drunk for the toasts so that it’d be funnier, but Penny insists it has to be done now, because she’s mean and wants everyone to remember the embarrassing things that will be said about me, so we’re doing it now. But since she deserves her share of embarrassment, I suggest we start with Simon. Come here  _ mate _ ” he tries and fails to give himself a British accent when he says that. “and give me your best.”

Snow laughs and I want to die.

Crowley, his laugh. I missed it so much. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.

I’m not going to survive tonight. Who did I think I was fooling when I said I could handle being around Simon Snow? I absolutely can’t. I never could.

He makes me so weak.

He walks by me when he’s headed to Penny and Shepard’s table, and my heart is in my throat. He was close enough that I could smell the cologne he was wearing.

It’s the one I bought him.

Probably not the same bottle, it’s been years, but it’s the same perfume.

I had bought it for him our second Christmas together, because he kept telling me how good I smelled, with my “ridiculous fancy products”, so I’d bought him one that had a lingering smell of smoke. He teared up when he realized it made him smell a little bit like he used to, when he had magic, and started wearing it every day.

I wonder if he still wears it because he really likes the smell, or if it’s because part of him still misses me.

I shake that thought, that dangerous thought.

I’m the fool who misses the other, not Snow.

**xxxxx**

_ A month. _

_ It’s been a month since he left me. _

_ A month since the man I’ve loved since I was fifteen tore my heart out of my chest and reduced it to pieces.  _

_ A month since I really understood the meaning of the word pain. _

_ I thought I knew. I had been through a lot, I really thought I knew what suffering was. I was a fool. A complete, utter fool. Nothing could ever equal what I felt when he stood in front of me, as glorious as he always was, and threw me out of his life. _

_ I think that’s the part that hurts the most.  _

_ I’m no longer part of Simon Snow’s life, and he’s no longer part of mine. _

_ He’s always been. _

_ From the day we met, there was only him, and no matter if he hated me or loved me, he was  _ there _. He had been a constant in my life since I was eleven, I thought he would always be ; first because I thought he’d be the one to end my miserable existence, and then because I thought we were forever. _

_ And I was wrong about both things. _

_ He’s left me, and he didn’t even have the decency to kill me. _

_ So now there’s only the missing and the emptiness, like I’ve lost a limb. Not, not a limb. An organ. One of the organs you absolutely cannot live without.  _

_ I’m sure I’m living. All I know is that I’m feeling this ; _ not him _. _

_ And not  _ him _. _

**xxxxx**

  
  


“Penny, what can I say? I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve been my best friend since we were little kids and now you’re bloody married, that’s crazy. Honestly, it’s also crazy I’m here to see it. I always thought I wouldn’t survive long enough to see you walk down the aisle, but it turns out that I did and it’s because of you. You’ve always been there, fixing my mess, saving my arse, and I’m so grateful for that. But I’m glad that now we don’t get in life threatening situations every friday between lunch and dinner and we,  _ you,  _ can finally live a normal life. With Shepard. I can’t say that’s unexpected, but I can’t say that was expected either. No offense Shep but I would have never in a million years thought Penny would settle for a Normal. Must be because you’re special,” he smiles at Shepard and my heart does something funny in my chest. “And I’m very sorry to tell you that man, but I won’t say anything embarrassing about Penny because she has so many more stories about me, she could ruin my chances to be taken seriously by anyone ever again. Oh come on Shep, don’t look so betrayed, you know I’ll always side with Penny. Anyway, I’m not good at speeches, so I’m just going to say this ; I’m so glad you get to have this Pen, you deserve it. You deserve so much more. I hope you two have a long, happy life together. And maybe with some mini Pen and Sheps. I want to be an uncle, Penelope.”

Bunce snorts, but no one can miss the way her eyes shine. She takes hold of Snow,’s hand and squeezes it. “Thanks, Simon.” It’s not enough for Snow apparently because he tugs on her arm until she stands up and let him put his arms around her.

Crowley I’d sell my soul -if I had one- for a hug from Simon Snow.

Unfortunately I lost my right to get that three years ago.

They stay in each other’s arms for a moment, Snow probably whispering to Penny, or crying. When he moves back, I notice his tearfilled eyes. Crying, then.

He’s always so emotional. No matter what he’s feeling, it’s always intense.

When he’s sad, he looks like his sorrow is devouring him, like he’s burdened by all the suffering of the world.

When he’s angry, he’s like a storm, destroying everything in his wake. 

When he’s happy, it’s a joy so bright he could outshine the sun.

Well, in my opinion, he always shines brighter than the sun. But when he’s happy like he is now, with a smile so wide the corner of his lips must hurt, everyone can see it. 

I hadn’t seen him that happy in so long, even before we broke up. 

Maybe he was right, maybe it was the best thing to do.

At least for him.

**xxxxx**

_ “Basil, eat something please,” Mordelia says. She’s sitting on my bed, her legs extended in front of herself and a plate on her lap. I’m lying next to her _

_ “I’m not hungry.” _

_ “Cut the crap, you haven’t eaten in days. I will force feed you if you don’t eat by yourself.” _

_ “I’m not hungry, Mordy. Just drop it.” _

_ Obviously, she doesn’t. Instead, she cuts the sandwich she brought me in four and presses one of the pieces and brings it to my lips. “Don’t be an arse and open your mouth.” _

_ I don’t have it in me to fight her. Daphne and her have been trying to get me to eat for days, she must be really fed up to resort to feeding me.  _

_ The moment I open my mouth, she shoves the sandwich in my mouth. It’s roast beef. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” She says once I’ve swallowed a bite. “Now sit down and eat the rest. I’m bringing you dessert, you better have eaten at least half of what’s left in your plate.” _

_ “A tyrant is what you are.” _

_ “Shut up and eat your sandwich Basilton.” _

_ I do not eat the sandwich. Instead I cry pathetically because of the sandwich. When Mordelia comes back, with a little plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it and a mug, she hurries to my side. “Baz, what is it?”  _

_ I hadn’t cried since yesterday night, which is a pretty big achievement for me right now, she must have thought I was going to go a full day without crying. _

_ Sorry to disappoint, Mordelia. It’s all I ever do. Cry, and disappoint people. _

_ “Roast beef. It’s Simon’s favourite.” _

_ “Oh, Baz,” she sighs, putting the two plates and the mug -which is full of blood, I notice by the smell- away before putting her arms around me. I can’t even appreciate the warmth of her embrace, all i can thing about is that she brought me a fucking mug of blood.  _

_ I disgust myself. She shouldn’t have to do that. I should go hunt and prevent my little sister from doing something so gross as fixing me a drink of  _ blood _. She shouldn’t have to do anything she’s doing at the moment. I should get a fucking grip on myself. _

_ But I can’t. _

_ Because I can’t hold on to the memory of him anymore, not when he’s the reason I need to slip away. _

So I let myself slip away.

**xxxxx**

Apparently Snow has decided the newlyweds’ table was better than ours, so he grabbed a spare chair and sat next to Penny, leaving me alone with Agatha. 

Of course, he couldn’t even bear to be at the same table as me for more than ten minutes.

Do I repulse him that much?

“Basil, stop looking at him like that.”

“Like what?”

“All sad and nostalgic. He dumped you. Get over it.”

I scoff. Crowley, this girl. 

“You’re so… delicate, Wellbelove.”

“No but honestly Baz, it’s been 3 years. I understand that it must have hurt at first and that you needed time to heal, but it’s been so long. You don’t deserve to let the past torture you like that. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you’re rich, and you live in California. The world is yours. Don’t let your first love take your youth away from you. Go out. Have fun. Fuck random people.  _ Live _ .”

She already told me something similar before I moved out of her flat to my own. She said I didn’t flee Simon Snow to let him keep ruining things for me.

She’s not completely wrong, but she doesn’t  _ understand.  _

“Easy to say for  _ you _ .”

She scrunches up her nose. It makes her look more like the girl she was at Watford, a girl I hated with a passion. “Oh, come one, don’t be like that. Penny got her heart broken too, and she’s married now. You’re just being…  _ you _ about this whole situation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, being “me”?”

“You know, overdramatic.”

“I’m  _ not  _ being overdramatic. He was everything to me, Wellbelove. Without him, it’s like nothing makes sense”

**xxxxx**

But one day, without the memory of blue eyes and bronze curls to keep me from it, I slipped away too far. 

_ It’s the anniversary of our first kiss. _

_ Of the first time I allowed myself to believe Simon Snow being mine was something that was actually possible, and not just the foolish fantasy of a lovestruck teenage boy.  _

_ It’s the first time I’m alone for it.  _

_ He left me two months and a half ago, and the pain, instead of fading with time, increases everyday. It’s unbearable. It’s like a wound that bleeds out until… _

_ Until you die. _

_ I close my eyes. I don’t want to see it. Maybe I’ll actually do it if I can’t see the fire enveloping my skin.  _

_ Vampires have a high pain resistance, but they’re also flammable. I wonder if the pain of going up in flames will be excruciating or bearable. I wonder if it’ll be quick. I wonder… _

_ Glass shatters. “BAZ!” _

_ Mordelia. _

**xxxxx**

Agatha keeps trying to talk me into  _ living _ instead of staying hung up on Simon Snow. At some point I stop listening. She’s lovely, but there’s so much I can take. Instead, I rummage through the inside pocket of my jacket until I find the pen and sketchbook I carry everywhere. 

The sketchbook isn’t the same one Snow looked at, I bought a new one immediately after that, and another one when I moved to America. That’s the one I’m using right now.

It still contains some drawings of Snow, because I’m pathetic and in love, but most of it has nothing to do with him. There are a couple drawings of Wellbelove’s pretty face and of her damned dog. Sketches of Lamb’s enigmatic smile and the lines of his back. The tattoo on his ribcage. Rare coloured drawings of the skyline of Las Vegas or the beach in Santa Monica. 

And today, I trace the outline of Penelope Bunce’s smiling face. 

I’ve never drawn Bunce. She once teased me about it, and after that, I decided never to draw her just to be contrary. But today she’s too beautiful, and her joy is too inspiring, even my pettiness can stop my pen from working on the paper. 

“You know, I love it when you pay so much attention to what I’m saying like that, Baz,” Wellbelove says, amused.

“You were annoying me, I stopped listening to you.”

“I noticed. I thought I would get you out of your thoughts so that Simon wouldn’t surprise you. He’s coming back”. She points at him with her chin. He’s walking towards us, a stupid grin still on his face. 

“Aleister Crowley.”

I quickly make my pen and sketchbook disappear. I can’t have him see any more of my drawings. “Will you show me what you drew?” Agatha asks.

“No. It’s for Bunce. If you wanted to see you could have watched while I was drawing.”

“I don’t hold dear the memory of the last time I tried to get a glimpse of your art. You’re a savage, Basilton.”

“It’s an invasion of my privacy. If I wanted people to see my art I wouldn’t draw it on a small sketchbook that’s hidden 99% of the time.”

“That’s a pity. You’re talented. Like with that violin of yours. You know, the violin I asked you to play for me for months.”

“I consider art to be something personal. What I draw and play, it’s for me.”

“But you said what you were drawing just now was for Penelope.”

“It is. It’s something I started drawing because she looks beautiful and I wanted to immortalize her glee on paper. I’ll give it to her because it seems more legitimate for her to have it than me. It’s about her. I didn’t pour any of my feelings into it.”

“So does that mean that when you drew me or Lucy, you poured some of your feelings into it?” she smirks. I should have never started talking to you in the first place.

“My absolute irritation at the both of you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. I hate her.

I can’t think of another snarky remark to throw her way because Snow slouches on his chair, the oaf. He doesn’t have an ounce of elegance in him. He gets the snarky remark instead because he deserves it for breathing the same air as me.

“Do you finally deem us worthy of your presence, oh mighty Chosen One?”

His eyebrows twitch, just like the vein on his temple. I smirk. It’s so easy to get to him. 

It’s natural. It’s what I’ve done for years.

I know how to make him hate me better than I know how to make him love me.

“Well you two seemed to have your fun together. Since when are you friends, anyway?”

“That’s absolutely none of your business.”

“Oh fuck off Baz! I’m trying to start a conversation here.”

“We were conversing just fine before you rudely interrupted us.”

He glares at me, but probably decides it’s not worth it saying anything -it’s not, I would have found something mean to say back and it would have gone on and on until one of us broke. Instead, he turned to Agatha. “Will you be nicer than a certain someone and tell me how Baz and you became friends?”

“It’s a long story. And Baz is right,” I don’t think she’s ever pronounced prettiest words than those. “mostly, it’s not your business. But, since I’m not a  _ caveman _ like him, I’ll tell you some of it.”

I stop listening. I don’t want to know what she’ll tell him, don’t want to know how many details about his implication in our friendship she’ll give. So I simply take my sketchbook out again, moving my body a little bit to block it from Snow’s sight as much as I can. Incidentally, it makes it more visible to Agatha, but I don’t care too much about that. She didn’t look before, she isn’t going to now, I trust her.

**xxxxx**

_ I’ve seen on instagram -yes, I follow her on Instagram, what about it?- that Wellbelove comes to this particular café often to grab a drink after work, which is exactly why I chose to buy myself a coffee here ; I intend for Wellbelove and I to accidentally run into each other.  _

_ They don’t have pumpkin mocha breve, so I have to settle for a latte, with more cream than actual coffee in it. Coffee makes me too jittery. Maybe it doesn’t mix well with the blood.  _

_ Anyway. _

_ Wellbelove just entered the shop. It’s a good thing she has her habits, I would have looked silly coming here every day, lurking in a corner, waiting for some pretty blonde girl to come in. _

_ Eight snakes, I really am the creep Snow thought I was in Watford.  _

_ Basil, focus. _

_ I take a sip of my drink as Wellbelove orders hers. I put my cup down, and walk towards her. “Wellbelove?” I ask, feigning surprise. _

_ She immediately turns to me, her credit card still in hand after she just paid. _

_ “Basilton? What in God’s name are you doing in California? Is Simon with you?” _

_ She swears like a Normal? Interesting. She really ran away from magic, it seems, if she excludes even our swearings from her language. _

_ I try not to flinch as she mentions Snow’s name. _

_ “I needed a change in scenery. Would you have time for a little chat?” _

**xxxxx**

I spend the rest of the evening drawing, chatting with Wellbelove, eating some of my food -I can eat in front of people now, but I still don’t eat much ; I suppose years of almost not eating do that to you- and drinking alcohol. I’m drunk easily, so I’m careful about how muchI drink. I just need enough to be able to deal with Snow’s proximity. 

Overall, the night goes well. The mood of the room is cheerful, the food is nice, Snow is leaving me alone.

Until he isn’t.

“Baz. Baz, stop ignoring me. Can I have a word?”

“Just one?”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a prick. Will you let me talk to you or not?”

“Why should I?”

“Well, you’ll only find out if you let me say what I have to say, I guess,” he sounds irritated already. We won’t get far if he’s annoyed before he even starts talking. 

“Okay, fine,” I sigh, like it costs me to accept.

As if I don’t want to talk to him. To be close to him. To know I’m the centre of his attention.

“Thanks,” he smiles.

_ Smiles. _ He smiles to me. Merlin.

My heart gets all crazy in my chest. I didn’t think I would get a smile from Simon Snow ever again. 

“Before, though,” I say, as I clear my throat to try to get a grip on myself and not scream my love at him. “I need to give this to Bunce.”

I take my sketchbook out of my pocket, and my wand from up my sleeve -don’t laugh, it’s safer against my arm than on a pocket- to rip the page with magic.

“Can I see?” he asks hesitantly. 

“No, it’s not for you,”I answer, mostly because I don’t want him to see, and partly because Wellbelove would have been a pain if I had shown the drawing to Snow and not her.

Speaking of the devil. “Have fun boys! Remember, lube and protection are important!”

I’m going to murder her. She came back to England? Well she’s never fucking leaving again. Because I am going to assassinate her, and then burn her body and scatter the ashes after spitting in them.

Snow’s entire face turned red, and I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger. I hope it’s embarrassment. I’d  _ really  _ feel insulted if it made him angry Agatha thought we might shag. 

“Fuck right off Wellbelove,” I throw at her as I walk away. 

I can’t see her but I’m sure there’s a smile tugging at her lips because she’s a horrible person who relishes in my suffering. “Snow, wait for me outside.”

**…**

“Bunce, I’ve got something for you.”

“Basil! How’s the night going?”

“Fantastic,” I say flatly. “Here, take that. I made it for you.”

I feel like little Baz going to Father to give him the little drawings he made of stick figures and houses with chimneys and suns in the corner of the page. 

A smile grows on her face as she takes the paper, and even more when she sees it. Shepard learns to look at it over her shoulder, and my jaw clenches, but I say nothing. He can see it too, I suppose. 

“Thank you so much. It’s beautiful.” 

I’m pretty sure this is the same voice she’d use with a child. 

“You’re beautiful,” I say back, without thinking about it.

She gives me a puzzled look, but it quickly leaves her face. “Come on Basil, not in front of my husband,” she says in this kind of fake whispers that are made to sound like whispers but also to be heard by people around. I think she just wants to say “my husband”. I don’t blame her.

Next to her, Shepard chuckles. 

“Sorry to crush your dreams, Bunce, but I’m not trying to steal you from your American.”

“Yeah, you’re much more interested in a certain guy who’s currently freezing his ass off in the garden, uh?” Shepard says, tilting his head in the direction of the window behind which Snow is standing, rubbing his palms to keep warm.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

**…**

“Put that on, you moron.” I throw Snow his coat -he hasn’t bought a new once since he broke up- when I arrive in front of him. 

“Thank Merlin, it’s so cold out there.” He put his arms through the sleeves of his coat and lets out a contented moan when he closes it around his body. He’s going to fucking kill me. “May isn’t supposed to be that bloody cold.”

“It’s England, Snow. You should know the weather in this country is terrible.”

“I suppose it’s hotter in California, isn’t it?” he asks, slipping his hands inside his pockets. 

He looks wonderful like that, with his long black coat under the moonlight and his light curls circling his handsome face. I try to imprint the picture he makes in my memory to be able to draw it, later, when I’ll be alone in my room, haunted by blue eyes and moles like stars.

“It is indeed. It’s rather enjoyable during the winter, but the summers are hell. Literally, it’s as hot as I imagine hell is.”

A cute, choked laugh escapes his lips. “Crowley, you’re so dramatic. I’m sure it’s not that bad. Why would you stay in America if it was so inconvenient to you anyway.”

“Because my boyfriend lives there.”

I don’t even realize what I’m saying until I see his whole face change ; his jaw tensing, his eyes turning cold and… hurt?

Why would he be hurt?  _ He  _ left me.  _ He  _ told me he didn’t love me anymore. 

He has no fucking right to be hurt because I got a new boyfriend after three fucking years -even though I didn’t. Lamb’s not my boyfriend, far from it. He’d laugh at me if he knew I used such a silly word to talk about him. 

“You have a boyfriend?”

I have two choices.

Tell him the truth, that Lamb is just a bloke I have sex with sometimes.

Or keep pretending.

**xxxxx**

_ “I… I’m going to…” _

_ His lips are on mine before I can finish, and I come with his tongue in my mouth, his hands in my hair, and his cock in my arse.  _

_ “You look so lovely when you come,” he whispers against my lips, his eyes staring into mine. They’re emerald green, nothing like those I always see when I close my eyes and let the past resurface. It’s a good thing ; it’d fuck me up too much if his eyes were like Snow’s. _

_ Lamb is nothing like Snow. Neither in character nor in appearance.  _

_ Even the way he fucks me is different. _

_ Snow never looked at me like that. He never told me I look lovely when I come. _

_ It’s pretty sad it’s a random bloke who’s got the hots for me who does that, when my boyfriend never did. _

_ “You’re not so bad yourself, for an old man.” _

_ He bites at my shoulder -a normal bite, not a vampire bite, though we  _ may  _ have experimented with that, since it cannot turn any of us- and I laugh. _

_ It feels so good to be with him. He fills the hole in my chest a little bit, with mind blowing sex and sweet words when he’s feeling particularly soft. _

_ “I’m still rather vigorous, for an old man, wouldn’t you say?” _

_ His vowels are rounder since we’re… acquainted. He says that I bring out the British in him. _

_ “Oh, very vigorous. Enough for a third round though? I’m not sure.” _

_ “God, you’re insatiable,” he smiles, before peppering kisses on my neck and under my jaw. _

_ “You love it.” _

_ “That, I do.” His laugh vibrates against my skin, and I feel a sudden and overwhelming wave of joy hitting me. _

**xxxxx**

“Yes, I do,” I end up saying, because I’m a coward.

Because it’s easier to hurt him than it is to admit I’m still desperately in love with him after so long. 

Because I’m terrified of what he’d do if he knew that I’m actually still single. 

Because I want him to feel as fucking miserable as I did when he told me those fucking words ;  _ I don’t love you anymore. _

I see a flash of something in his eyes, not hurt, something else, but it’s gone before I can identify what it is.

“Well, I’m glad for you,” he says, even though his voice, his stance, fucking everything tells me the opposite. “I hope he treats you well.”

“Better than you ever did.

And with that, I turn my back on him. 


End file.
